


hands (molto bene)

by phinnia



Category: House, M.D. - Fandom
Genre: M/M, friendship/UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-15
Updated: 2007-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-15 09:43:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phinnia/pseuds/phinnia





	hands (molto bene)

If House ever wanted to shut Wilson up (a fantasy that he engages in at least once a week or whenever he needs his Vicodin refiiled) he could do worse than to tie his hands behind his back. Wilson's one of those people that can't seem to talk without using his hands in some way. Greg remembers his family's brief soujourn in Italy, zipping through knotty Roman streets on the back of a rented Vespa (his first experience with the freedom a gas-powered two-wheeled vehicle could bring) and how he was able to understand the bare bones of a conversation even before his Italian grew beyond stunted nouns and verbs; the gist was mirrored in the hand movements, facial expressions, the tilt and wiggle of expressive eyebrows. Wilson's the same way: hands on his hips, waving a cereal spoon like a baton or a weapon, hands over his eyes, hands gesticulating frantically and wildly as his voice gets higher and more shrill. For some reason Greg seems to be the one blamed for most of these kinesthetic outbursts. He can't imagine why.

Okay, well, maybe he can. But the wives must have been responsible for _some_ of it, there were three of them after all.

The question remains: how did a nice Jewish boy pick up such a typically Mediterranean mannerism? Maybe some long-ago grandfather in the Wilson clan was distracted from his Torah by the lilting open vowels of the Romance languages, sultry dark ringlets and the lush curves of breast and hip - an act which would also explain Jimmy's wandering eyes. House likes that explanation and resolves to dig further into the Wilson family tree to find confirmation - or at least blackmail material.

It would also explain the eyebrows. Hmm. Maybe he'd have to blindfold him _and_ tie his hands behind his back?

He smiles to himself and tips his chair back on two legs as the picture swims into sharper focus behind closed eyelids: those soft, expressive hands bound into silence (to each other, clasped above his head? perhaps anchored to the smooth grooves and geegaws of a wooden headboard?) his brown eyes hushed by the soft muzzle of a striped tie - his mouth -

A hand touches his shoulder, nearly sends him through the glass wall. "Lunch?" Wilson stares down at him: those brown eyes flicker with restrained amusement.

"Yeah." He shakes his head as if to clear it. "Sure thing. How about Italian?"


End file.
